By T.B. Stormshot
Disclaimer: I don't own the Animorphs. I don't own the Omen. I don't need to. I have... BOB AND MAURICIA!!! HAHAHAAA!!! *blinks* ...yeah. Okay.
You know, thinking it over again, I think Bob and Mauricia are just right for their parts. The Drode needs some good old fashioned love. *blinks and thinks about what she just said. Then proceeds to leave the room, closing the door behind her. Loud laughter can be heard for several minutes. T.B. re-enters the room with a large grin on her face* Anyway, I believe the Ellimist would be reeeeaal picky about who he set the Drode, or should I say Damien, up with, so if the Winterrs are a little old-fashioned, that's a-okay. Oh, and nope, they aren't yeerked. They are simply creepily sweet people.
Oh, I was going to say something else, um, oh yeah! The Omen! It's about the Antichrist being born to a family, only they don't get it and when they do... how are they supposed to kill their own kid??! Throughout the whole movie people die in mysterious accidents, which were predicted by photos of them with shadowy smudges in them. People that got in the Antichrist's way. What was this demon child's name? Well... Satan. But his human name was Damien. I felt that it fit the Drode quite well. Uh... his last name is Crayos because I thought if he gave the name "Crayak", he might give away his true nature to certain *ahem* people. Besides that, Crayos simply sounds more natural than Crayak, don't you think?
"So, I guess you have a few questions to ask, Damien," Mauricia said as she turned to the Drode. The Drode blinked, but failed to say anything to Mauricia. As far as he was concerned, he was in a strange place, in a very strange situation and instinct told him to not let on about how little he really knew. He was not in control of the situation, and he was not going to let on that he wasn't.
Mauricia stared at the Drode, while he simply glared back, waiting for her to come over to his side of the court, pick up the ball, go back over to her side, and try again. Finally, uncomfortably, she decided to do just that. "Well, my name is Mauricia Winterrs. And the man that just left is my husband, Bob Winterrs-"
Really? The Drode thought sarcastically.
"And we're really glad to have you here Damien. We know that you only have one more year before you're 18 and out on your own, but we hope that you can learn to like it here. I've been told you've had a difficult past and-"
"Really?" the Drode responded, rather curious on just what the foolish woman had been told. "What'd they tell you?" he asked bluntly. He wasn't in the mood for frills, he just wanted to be told what was up outstraight.
"Well, that you've been through many foster homes, and that at one point you just decided to run away. For a while at least. I was also told the police found you and questioned you on a few charges. I'm glad though, that nothing was proven," Mauricia remarked in an easy-going tone. She was trying not to push the Drode. Of course, being the Drode, he was remarkably sensitive to emotion and motivation. Expressions and tenseness in voice were like scrambled code to him, and he knew the code like a second language. The Drode struggled not to grin and laugh at Mauricia's attempts at nonchalance. After all, he was in a very strange situation.
"So if I'm such a bad person. What am I doing here?" the Drode asked, raising an actual eyebrow. He unconsciously crossed his arms and began to lean on one leg again, but quickly caught himself before he had a chance to collapse.
Mauricia smiled warmly. "Would you like to sit down?" she asked first, gesturing to the living room in the next room. The Drode cocked his head slightly and thought about it. While standing gave a sense of unease and discomfort, he really did not trust his now human legs to be able to stand up for all that long before growing tired. In any other case, were he in his true form, he would have declined, but this time, he accepted, grudgingly.
Mauricia led him to the living room, which was fairly spacious and decorated to give a country-like feel. Homey and comfortable, meant to set guests at ease with one another. The entire room was centered around a fireplace made of brick, shielded by glass. A couch and two easy chairs, both an off-tone white, surrounded it, with a low wooden table in the middle of it all. Side tables were present by the chairs, modeled after the table in the middle, and holding identical lamps. The walls were wall-papered red with a rosy-white flower pattern, giving the room its warm tone. All in all, it achieved its purpose. Mauricia gestured towards a chair, which after a moment's reflection, the Drode sat in it. Mauricia sat at the edge of the couch in order to talk to him.
Mauricia began to answer his question. "Bob and I, we have always wanted to help. Whether volunteering at a shelter or donating money to charity-this may sound corny, but that's just who we are-"
That does sound corny, the Drode agreed silently. So corny in fact, I have absolutely no doubts about why that meddler the Ellimist chose you. He's trying to make me throw up.
"-For years though, we have tried for a child of our own. But we have never managed to, Bob and I had always been close, but it was a hard trial. Both of us thought that we were doing something wrong. We felt guilty, and at the same time we were trying to pin the blame on each other for our misfortune. It was hard..."
I bet it was. Humans, the Drode kept from snorting in disgust. He might have loved watching the fight, but hearing about it like this was a whole other matter.
"But finally, Bob and I felt it in our hearts that we simply could no longer allow ourselves to be split apart over the matter. We had to move on, and do new things, and love each other again. So we decided, together, that if we could not have a child of our own, we would help other children instead," Mauricia smiled softly as she said those words, memories of reconnecting with her husband coming to mind.
At that same time, the Drode had a breakthrough. Religious! They're religious! No wonder this human's so sappy...
"We became a foster home for anybody who needed it. And so here you are. It doesn't matter what kind of past a person has, they can always be a good person if they really want to be."
The Drode blinked. "And what if they don't want to be a good person? What if they, are just happy as they are?" he asked snidely, trying to hide the smirk that came with the question. He had been controlling his witty comments up till now, but he just couldn't resist...
It was Mauricia's turn to blink. "I don't think that anyone can be truly happy when they are bad. If you could be, maybe you would be born that way. But nobody is. Nobody is born bad, Damien," she tried to answer, thinking over the Drode's snide question. She looked thoughtful.
"By bad, you mean evil," the Drode pushed.
"Nobody is born evil," Mauricia said firmly, the Drode believed in the fact that she really did believe that. Even if he didn't believe it himself.
"Well then, I suppose if no one could truly enjoy being bad, or evil for that matter, we must be living in a universe of peace and harmony. Right?" the Drode asked in conclusion, he believed the pleasure he was deriving from teasing Mauricia was real. "Right?"
Mauricia fell silent for a moment, leaving the Drode to think he had won, a half-grin of triumph began to form just as she slowly answered, "Some people just don't know enough kindness to understand the difference. I feel sorry for those people..."
The Drode's grin faded as he wondered how he could battle this remark. However, before he could say something, his stomach answered for him with a low grumble. The Drode, his attention distracted from the immediate conversation, looked down at his belly in surprise. He wasn't used to the feeling of being hungry and had not recognized it immediately. He had always supplemented himself when necessary at established times, needing to be at his best at all times. He hadn't realized that the human body's schedule might be any different.
Mauricia grinned humorously at the Drode, putting the entire, rather morbid, conversation they had just had behind her. "Hungry?" she asked.
The Drode tapped his fingers against the kitchen table, looking at his surroundings and outside the large slide glass door. The clock installed the electric oven said that it was 7:31 a.m.... 7:32 then. The Drode was beginning to realize that being hungry was a very uncomfortable feeling, not particularly terrible, but just annoying enough to distract him from his thoughts. Which of course was what he sought to avoid in Crayak's realm. This wasn't Crayak's territory though...
"How do you like your eggs?" Mauricia asked him as she poured a little vegetable oil into the frying pan., it immediately began to sizzle. She gestured with the two eggs she had in her hand.
"Raw," the Drode automatically answered. He actually did like eggs, though the ones he was used to were slightly bigger than chicken eggs. They also had the habit of belonging to endangered species and/or, when it was possible, a sentient being. Not that that happened often, the Ellimist wasn't that incompetent.
Mauricia laughed at what she took to be a joke and the Drode looked up with a blink. He remembered that humans generally liked their food cooked, which was probably a good thing since most of it was diseased anyway. The Drode shrugged. "I don't care. I'll try anything once," he said, and he would--as long as someone tried it before him.
"Scrambled then, I hope you don't mind a few burns," Mauricia nodded, turning to crack the eggs on the side of the pan. The yolks slid into the pan and began to sizzle and she through the shells away. "We only have a few things to drink right now, water, milk, orange juice. Do you like coffee?"
"Water is fine," the Drode answered shortly. He mulled over his situation, wondering exactly how he had managed to come to this place. Not just the kitchen he was now sitting in, but just being human at all. The Ellimist of course. He knew the answer, he was just having a hard time believing it.
Crayak had been about to kill him...
Why?
The Drode had failed him...
How?
The Drode thought over it and drudged up the memory of the incident. A foggy memory of a monstrous part-flesh, part-machine beast came to mind. He recalled it fighting an andalite, Visser 3 of course. The idiot had actually thought he might win against a creature with the mighty Crayak's influences running though its veins. The beast had changed form with ease to accommodate whatever morph the fool had taken, he could have easily crushed him... until...
Who was the beast? Someone the Drode knew all to well... it was on the tip of his tongue... he knew he knew...
The fogginess of the memory the Drode realized. His mind... it was acute, retaining information for years. It was a crystal clear date bank and with the incident he was trying to recall, it should have been like it was happening right there and now. But it wasn't, he could barely recall it. Tampered with, his mind had been tampered with. The creature was most likely one of the andalite bandits, or a human. He knew some of them were human, though not how many. The Ellimist had said he would erase such memories, the Drode hated him for it. Of his power, his body... his mind being delved into left him feeling most violated. It was his, all his.
The Drode remember the creature had been just about to murder the stupid yeerk, Crayak had been just about to win, when... It had stopped. It had decided to spare Visser 3, no, it had decided against excepting Crayak's power. It had decided it had not wanted to become Crayak's servant...
Idiot.
"What are you thinking about?" a voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. The Drode looked up, slightly startled. It was the female human, Mauricia, who was looking curiously at the Drode.
"Nothing," the Drode shrugged, nothing that could possibly concern the so-called guardian the Ellimist had given him.
"Oh, alright then," Mauricia said, the sides of her mouth twitched downwards, but she let it go. She sensed that the Drode, Damien, had a lot on his mind, but she knew she couldn't just butt in to his affairs. She was curious, but she wasn't naturally a brown-noser. Maybe when she got to know Damien better... "Eggs are done," she said instead.
Mauricia set the eggs, as well a lightly-browned piece of toast, in front of the Drode. She then went and returned with a glass of tap water for him as well. After seeing to the Drode, she settled down in a chair opposite of the Drode, meticulously sipping a mug of dark-colored coffee. She pulled a book from a nearby counter after a glance at the Drode, deciding he was not in the mood for chitchat.
The Drode stared at the eggs, blinking once. They didn't look particularly appetizing...
Eh.
He picked up the fork next to the plate and took a fork full. He might not know everything there was to being human, but he wasn't helpless after all. Humans ate much the same as Howlers, except they were noisier. At least the Howlers settled down to eat and not to talk. They had better things to do, and so did the Drode for that matter. Though exactly what he wasn't sure. The Drode then put the yellow-scramble muck into his mouth with only a brief disgusted glance at it. He blinked.
Wasn't bad. Wasn't the best thing he'd ever eaten, but it was definitely different from anything else he had ever tried. He might see why an andalite could go a little nuts... then again probably not. The Drode refused to put himself in the same category as an andalite.
The Drode ate the eggs, never mind the strange color, finished them and began cutting the toast into pieces with the side of his fork. Mauricia looks up curiously, interested to see the Drode's precise manners. Not what she would expect from a teenager with a troubled history. Of course, the Drode was much more than a troubled teen, but she didn't know that. The Drode finished off the toast, put the fork down, and picked up the glass of water. He tipped it up and drank the entire glass in one long drink. He then put the glass down, wiped his lips with the side of his hand, and looked up at Mauricia. "There's an excessive amount of iron in your water," he commented.
Mauricia blinked. "Sewage lines haven't gone through quite yet so we get water from our well. Lots of iron, but then again, no chlorine," she informed him. The Drode shrugged.
"Better iron then chlorine. At least it does some good," the Drode simply said. He then folded his arms, leaned back in his chair, and stared at Mauricia.
"That's true," Mauricia agreed. She met the Drode's gaze uncomfortably. "Well... what do you like doing for fun?" she asked, hesitating slightly.
The Drode thought about the question carefully, he considered telling her what he really liked doing for fun, but decided against it. He wasn't quite ready yet to really alienate his pet foster family so far. So he simply shrugged. "I don't know. What do you do for fun?" he asked. He meant the question to be rhetorical, unfortunately Mauricia did not realize it.
"Well, I like going shopping and talking with my friends, I like working at my part-time job, um, I enjoy reading, I also do a little writing on the side, just for fun though. I also volunteer to help care for the toddlers at our church once a month, it can be fun but it can also get pretty hectic!" Mauricia chuckled, the Drode didn't find quite what was so funny, but was pleased to find out his earlier hypothesis was true.
"How generous of you," the Drode commented dryly.
"Not really. I used to volunteer twice a month, but it was just a little too much for me. They would put me in with the infants for first service and that always raised trouble," Mauricia grinned, almost as dryly.
"Not a morning person?"
"Oh no, I'm as early bird-like as a person can get, it's Bob that has trouble. He can't stand getting up so early in the morning."
"He's not a religious man?"
"No, he just prefers getting up for second service instead. He says the extra couple hours of sleep really do help."
"Oh."
Both Mauricia and the Drode fell silent for a moment.
"Well, would you like me to show you around the house?" Mauricia asked hesitatingly.
"Why not?" the Drode shrugged, his words sincere enough, though the tone in his voice was sincerely dry.
Hey, I don't suppose you can tell when I got bored, can you? I'm using up all my self-will here. I reeeally want to get the Drode to school (heh), but I know better than to hurry into it. If I hurry through the story with Mauricia and Bob, then I'm going to ruin the story. I KNOW better than to hurry through a storyline, better to take your time then do that, right?
Right.
Anyhoo, Mauricia volunteers at church with the toddlers, this is slightly based on experience considering I do the same thing. Twice a month I help take care of the 1-2 yr. olds for either first or second service. Unlike Mauricia however, I am not an early bird, I am a night owl, and I'm as night owly as a person can get. Problem is, they always put me with the infants once a month during first service. So far, I've gotten out of handling any infants because they usually come during second service but geez... Just working with the 1-2 yr. olds is enough for me, gah. Especially when we get a lot of kids during a particular service... and then, you have to factor in the equation that a lot of these kids are at the point where they can't bear to leave their mommies and daddies, so then you have a lot of crying kids.
And I hated babysitting even before this.
I really need to find a better way to volunteer at church. Maybe I can do a comic strip or something for the kids group (elementary school grades), it'd be a lot less nerve-frying.
Uggh... well stay tuned for the return of Non-Interactive 6.0!!!, since it will be making a comeback in the next couple of weeks or so. Almost got the next two chapter done so I suppose I'll be making a couple of people happy. And Steve might gain a personality!!! Been having trouble fitting him in, sorry Hurricane!
The Drode... well I'm sure more craaaazy stuff will happen to him in the next chapter... or not. I don't know, I might do some slight fast forwarding, but only when it's absolutely necessary of course. This isn't 24 after all. Oh, and the Drode's hair stays brown, why? Because he's a prick and good things can't happen to him... and possibly because I'm a real jerk. Heh...
Thank you, thank you and good night.